Blue · Power · Wings

Blue rocks

I step on blue rocks, which make my valleys,
and mountain tops.
They are unclothed, everything is deep blue.

A few white clouds make no shadows
upon the light pale sky,
it rains with blue powder, as we await for You.

What we love most is hidden in the Earth’s heart,
and we cannot reach it anymore,
unless we bleed to death.

For only red has the power to wash away
this blue powder choking us,
thus we will turn into violet starlings,
and change the turning of the wold.


Moss roses

It was almost love all that we lived together –
we needed just one word, a look was missing,
and everything would have softly sit in its place.

But don’t be sad, soul of mine, because from you
the dawn of tomorrow is born, from the war cry
awakening the mountains that sleep.

It was almost love the story of us –
we needed just another summer, to ignore sirens,
and walk barefoot in the dew.

But don’t be sad, soul of mine, because from us
moss roses will arise in all the flowerpots
cracked from too much sun, and from too acid rains.

Romanian version

death · Faith · Love · Power

The mountains of Heaven

How can I describe that which
I have never seen?
How can I speak of Your Greatness?
Stars alone are the echo
of Your beautiful thoughts,
but their light does not go forth enough,
past our eyes’ blindness.

How can I describe
the mountains of Heaven?
How can I speak of Your Essence?
Birds alone bring testimony
that You can fly without feathers,
but their chirping does not enter
our ears, deaf to Your music.

How can I describe that which
cannot be unless You let it happen?
How can I speak of Your Presence?
You are everywhere I go,
in every water I swam,
and I am never alone by Your side,
not even when I finally close my eyes.

Bridge · Concrete · Love · Power


Unaware most of the time
that our words are acid rain
(forcing grass to grow under)
we look at each other
from the blind-spot.

Would it be hard to let go
of everything we assume,
and just breathe
like a whale gasping for air
after a long hunt?

Even magpies bury their dead,
but we are so paralyzed
by the feeling of being awesome
in the silence of our heart,
that we prefer darkness.

You, Who descended into hell,
You, Who are Eternal Life,
anchor our feet firmly to the ground,
and instill Your fire in our palms,
so that we may rise from ashes.

Light · Power · Sacred

Light You are

Light You are,
and there is no darkness in You.

Like a candle dying
under the harsh December wind,
we lift up our eyes in the same way
to the unspeakably blue sky.

Light You are,
and there is no darkness in You.

Like an ascending skylark
saluting the sunrise with heavenly voice,
we lift up our hearts in the same way
to the throne of Your glory.

Light You are,
and there is no darkness in You.

So then stretch out Your hand, and pour
the oil of peace into our candle,
because she is truly beautiful
only when besieged by the night.

Light You are,
and there is only life in You.

Romanian version

Bridge · Life · Love · Power


I believe we could say uncounted things
about the way lindens bloom in the morning,
but there is too much snow in our souls,
and the petal spread tires in death.

If you wish, I will turn your face towards the moon,
for she is the lady of violins,
and of mountains, and of our longing
drowned by horns, and by rail screeching.

You have nothing to hide, still you are silent in waiting,
you find yourself nowhere in this world,
except in a plot of land burnt by the sun,
except in an endless wheat field, caressed by wind.

Come home, the spring will be here soon,
the snowdrops will pop up in gardens,
swallows will roost under eaves one by one,
and all mysteries will grow wax wings.

Romanian version

Kiss · Light · Love · Power

The last border

Show me the place
where the sweet doves rest,
please show me the place
where your heart dies.

I want to walk with you
along the shores of despair,
we will step on dry leaves,
holding hands, holding hands.

We breathe inside a spell;
you carry the light,
and I am always hungry
for the warmth of your palm.

We crossed the final border,
we are home at last –
I feel your every thought,
your lips – they taste like grass.

Romanian version